


And So the Adventure Begins

by LaKoda0518



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: A gift for a friend, Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship, Best Friends, Dynamic Duo, Flashbacks, Friendship, John Watson's Blog, John and Sherlock are Friendship Goals, John is a Good Friend, Look at the crazy shit they've done though!, M/M, One of My Favorites, Reminiscing, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sherlock is a good friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 15:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21017765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaKoda0518/pseuds/LaKoda0518
Summary: John Watson returns home after a bad day at work only to be reminded just how lucky he actually is :)





	And So the Adventure Begins

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CarmillaCarmine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarmillaCarmine/gifts).

> This fic is being posted in honour of celebrating one year of friendship with the amazingly awesome CarmillaCarmine! Without your friendship, I wouldn't have accomplished half of what I have done today and I hope you know how grateful I am for this past year :D Life has been full of ups and downs, yet here we are killing it! Here's to another year and many more to come! Let's make it a good one, shall we? :D

John flopped down in his chair and grabbed the newspaper off the arm, huffing out a breath. The entirety of the universe seemed to be against him today and he had just about had his fill of it. Sherlock had used up all of the hot water that morning in an 'experiment', leaving John to a freezing cold shower. He'd had a terrible day at the clinic after being thrown up on and having to change clothes, realizing he'd been double-booked at 11, and then dropping his lunch on the floor when he finally did get a moment to himself. 

Yes, the whole day had been a disaster and, to top it all off, he'd come home to find the fridge being completely devoid of anything even remotely consumable. Sod it… he'd just have to go to the shops tomorrow. He wasn't venturing any further than his chair or his bed for the rest of the evening even if Sherlock swanned in in the next ten seconds with a triple locked-room murder. He was staying in and that was that. He wasn't going to give the universe another chance to make him any more miserable than he already was.

He shook his head in exasperation and turned his full attention to the newspaper in his hands.  _ More of the ongoing Brexit bullshit… Unbelievably stupid political propaganda… The usual celebrity-obsessed mumbo jumbo…  _

"Ugh…" he groaned, tossing the paper aside. "Christ, why did I think  _ that _ was a good idea?" John scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed, feeling more than a little defeated. Not only did the goings-on of his own life resemble a fucking dumpster fire, but the rest of the world's current situation did, as well. Surely there was something he could do that would allow him to relax…

Subconsciously, his tired gaze fell on his laptop and, before he knew what he was doing, he'd scooped it up from the end table and fired it up. Maybe there was something he could edit or write up for his blog? "Of course, there is," he huffed aloud, feeling irritated with himself. There was always something for the blog that needed to be typed up from his notes or edited in order to be shared with the rest of the world. 

The machine hummed to life in John's lap and he found the sound oddly comforting. Somehow, in the time he'd known Sherlock, his computer and the ridiculous blog that accompanied it had gone from being the bane of his existence to being a source of comfort and solace. Whenever he found himself at the end of his patience with the world and everything in it, he'd discovered that he could throw himself into his blog for a little while and it seemed to ease the intensity of his emotions. 

Today, however, turned out to be quite the exception. He entered the URL address for his blog and a large notification banner flashed across the screen.

_ Congratulations on your one year Blogiversary! One year ago today, you first shared your thoughts with the world! WHOO HOO! In celebration of this wonderful milestone, we've compiled a video consisting of some of your most liked entries from the previous year. We hope you enjoy this special look back at the work you've done so far! Happy writing and best of luck for the future from all of us at the Support Centre! _

John blinked in surprise as the banner flashed with digitally animated confetti and balloons that bounced merrily around the overly-dramatic text.  _ Had it really been a year already? _ He thought back to the tiny little bedsit he'd landed in after coming back from the war and felt a lump form in his throat. He'd left for Afghanistan with confidence and a knowledge of who he was, only to return an empty shell of a man with no family, no job, and a pension that wouldn't cover his most basic of needs.

One year ago, he'd been depressed, angry, and alone. Fingering the grooves on the muzzle of the illegal handgun he'd kept hidden in his desk drawer before chickening out each night and crawling into bed, hoping he'd have the courage to pull the trigger the next day. The thought made John wince and he felt ashamed of his cowardice. The selfish notion to take his own life would have indeed ended his suffering and loneliness, but he could have never known the effects of what was to come in those next few days. 

He glanced back at his computer screen and felt a small smile creep over his features as he clicked the little triangle icon to play the video. Within moments, the screen filled with photographs and screenshots of direct quotes from his blog and soft, uplifting music drifted out of the computer's speakers. There were pictures of himself and his trademark scowl that made him laugh and even a few of Sherlock in that dreaded hat as well. He could still remember the day they'd discovered that people had begun to associate the hat with the detective and the memory made him laugh out loud; his mind filled with the image of Sherlock punching his fist into the hat in a fit of irritation as he fumed.

As the pictures made him laugh and smile, the words he'd written over the past three hundred and sixty-five days brought out every last ounce of joy he could possibly muster. Tiny glimpses into the life he had carved out for himself at his best friend's side brought to life in black and white:

** _January 29th_ ** _ \- "Nothing ever happens to me. But today, something did. Something happened." _

_ "So tomorrow, we're off to look at a flat. Me and the madman. Me and Sherlock Holmes." _

** _January 31st_ ** _ \- "And then we went to this great Chinese restaurant where my fortune cookie said 'There is nothing new under the sun. It has all been done before. ' After the night I'd had, I beg to differ." _

** _March 28th_ ** _ \- "I can't deny that I prefer this kind of life. Being a civilian doesn't suit me. But the thing is, this life we've chosen isn't safe. Sherlock chooses to be this crusading consulting detective and I choose to be his colleague." _

** _April 1st_ ** _ \- "And that's how Sherlock Holmes and I lived to see another day." _

** _May 1st_ ** _ \- "Not sure my life with Sherlock is compatible with long-term relationships." _

** _May 30th_ ** _ \- "Then there was that really odd case with the melting laptop and the time Sherlock stole a bus. Just another typical week at 221B Baker Street!" _

** _June 16th_ ** _ \- "Which is why Sherlock and I ended up, dressed as ninjas, fighting a comic book geek in Soho." _

** _September 15th _ ** _ \- "Sherlock was already there. Naked except for a sheet wrapped around him." _

** _December 19th _ ** _ \- "I'd taken Sherlock out Christmas shopping which, looking back, wasn't the best of ideas. He'd shouted at a Father Christmas that he was bored and wanted a nice juicy murder for Christmas - in front of a bunch of kids and their parents." _

** _December 25th _ ** _ \- "What Christmas isn't complete without your guests being humiliated, your girlfriend dumping you and a woman being murdered." _

As the last of the memories faded from the screen, John found himself doubled over in the floor; the laptop lying abandoned somewhere beside him as he laughed so hard his sides hurt. If you had asked him right then and there how he had managed to survive the last year of his life following Sherlock into the unknown, he wouldn't have been able to tell you. What he did know, however, was that, because he had taken a chance and met up with a stranger when he was falling apart at the seams, he had rediscovered himself and, together, he and Sherlock had filled in the gaps in one another's lives. They had made a place for themselves in a world that had previously shoved them aside, broken and forgotten and it was in that place that they had made new memories and new friends who had brightened their lives tenfold, bringing joy and laughter with them.

Yes, becoming Sherlock's friend had definitely had an impact on John's life and he couldn't deny that it had been a good one. Even if the man did manage to drive him up the wall at times. 

As his laughter began to subside and his cheeks began to ache from all of the smiling, the doorbell downstairs buzzed, bringing John back to the real world. _ 'Who the hell could that be?'  _ he thought to himself, allowing a slight chuckle to slip from his lips. Judging by his latest stroll down memory lane, anyone in the world could be calling on them at this time of day.

The buzzer sounded once more and John pulled himself to his feet, gathering his composure as best he could. Taking the stairs with a spring in his step, he reached the door in seconds; trying not to appear too eager. He counted to three before he turned the handle, revealing - much to his surprise  _ and _ confusion - a delivery man from the local grocery.

"Are you, Dr. Watson?" the man asked; his bushy moustache twitching as he spoke.

John furrowed his brow and scratched the back of his neck, "Yeah, that's me… um, how can I help you?". If this had to do with a new case, it was definitely going to be one for his blog; that he was certain of.

"Delivery for you. Courtesy of Mr. Holmes," the man stated, matter-of-factly, as he handed John a small clipboard. "Sign here, please, and I'll get your order,".

Taking the clipboard, John signed his name, warily, and glanced at the delivery form as the man turned to walk away. _ "Dairy delivery for Dr. John H. Watson - 221 Baker Street".  _

"Dairy delivery…?" John murmured, only half paying attention as the man returned. He glanced up in acknowledgement, only to do a double take as his jaw dropped open. The man was pushing a hand-cart loaded down with three cases of Watson's semi-skimmed milk.

"There you go, sir! Hope you've got a use for all of this before it spoils on you!" the delivery man chuckled, waving as he took the hand-cart back to his truck and made to leave.

Waving a hand in some semblance of farewell, John gaped openly at the crates of milk piled up in front of the door to their flat. A note attached to the top case fluttered in the slight breeze and John reached out to tug it free.

_ John - _

_ For all of those times over the past year that you complained about my never getting the milk. I hope this gesture more than makes up for it. Thank you for tolerating my demeanour and behaviour throughout the duration of our friendship thus far. It has been a great pleasure having your company and your friendship in my life and in my work this past year and I look forward to many more, if you would be amenable. _

_ _ \- S.H. _ _

_ P.S. - Meet me at Bart's once you get this. _

_ Oh, and bring the bag of thumbs I left in the crisper. _

  
  


John barked out a laugh as he finished the last words and he shook his head. Life with Sherlock was definitely unpredictable, but he knew he wouldn't have it any other way. Stuffing the note in his pocket, he carried each case up the stairs to their flat, making three trips in total, before grabbing his coat, his keys, and, of course, the bag of thumbs from the crisper.

Taking his phone from the pocket of his coat, he tapped out a quick text:

_ On my way, you crazy git :) _

_ _ \- JW _ _

He took the stairs two at a time, shaking his head as he let out a quiet laugh. In the past year, he had been given a new lease on life; one he had never thought possible. With a soft smile, he sighed as he stepped into the fresh London air, "And so the adventure begins…"

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
